


The Butterfly Garden

by 0_0donkey



Category: Almost Human (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Drama, Families of Choice, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_0donkey/pseuds/0_0donkey
Summary: Sequestered away within the hallowed halls of a long abandoned place of worship Rudy Lom, a man of science and intellectual discipline works a few miracles of his own. From creating replica fission igniters to cooking up benzupropene pure enough to get him in with The Bishop his brilliance knows no bounds. In truth the police would be lost without him, and yet he himself is a man without a compass, or even a star to guide him.Things change when a difficult case one fraught with unsavory responsibilities, and steep moral quandaries finds its way to his lab.





	The Butterfly Garden

Codes: linear, precise, and predictable. These were the basic laws and tenets that Rudy Lom had built his life upon, the very foundation of his being. He was a man of facts, rationale, and reasoning, grounded and assured of his place within the vast, apathetic cosmos from which life had sprung by these fundamental truths. Truths he shrouded himself with like armor. People on the other hand, people were messy, contradictory, and volatile. People acted by no governing law or guiding principal other than their own sense of morality; codes which they had written for themselves, with no two codes alike. Rudy couldn't understand people, people didn't come with a cypher, or a key. Besides the more he saw of what they were capable, the less he felt he wanted to.

Numbers and equations flickered across the computer screen, relaying in terms simple only to Lom himself the formulaic data housed within the discarded and badly damaged microprocessor Detective Tillman had brought him just a few short days ago. Discovered, interestingly enough, embedded within the skull of one Lawrence Bowers.

His fingers dancing across the keyboard Rudy's mind raced to fill in the missing portions of the sequence presented to him. It was a puzzle, the technician loved puzzles he always had, but this particular conundrum was most vexing. A morbidly fascinating case to say the least. It would seem that Lawrence had been involved in much more than by the book genetic engineering and this convenient little chip, one lucky enough to survive the explosion that took Mr Bowers' life would be the department's primary evidence not only to prove that fact, but also to locate the conspirators who had killed him before seemingly vanishing from the face of the earth.

Not including the dearly departed Mr. Bowers, Dr. Jekyll to the Mr. Hyde that was his street name "Rancor" there were thirteen bodies connected to this case. Two were less than upstanding citizens, the rest, well the rest had all been the unfortunate destitutes that had come flocking in hopes of one cure or another. Instead they were used as lab rats in failed experiment after failed experiment leaving mutilated semi-human corpses behind, victims of the horror that was genetic unspooling.

Chromes, they were something envied and despised, unattainable perfection for those already born and yet there were still some egotistical and deranged enough to try. A superstitious shudder ran through the man, to have ones DNA pulled apart one base pair at a time, the poor wretches were probably better off dead than forced to continue in such an existence.

Getting no where fast Rudy laced his fingers together behind his head and allowed a breath to hiss out from between his teeth. The answer was in here somewhere, he just needed to find it, and when he did they could bring down the individual that, having taken over the experimentations with even more disturbing results than their predecessor had all the makings of history's next great terrorist. Frustration beginning to seep in, the man passed his aching digits through his hair, scratching his scalp with a fierce aggression.

Breaking through the sanctity that was Rudy's headspace a monotonous voice cut through the air displacing his thoughts with a cacophony of negative energies, and derailing various contingent trains of thought in an instant. It was then that he noticed the MX unit sliding into his peripheral vision.

Nerves grating, Rudy turned to address the being, eye contact reasserting just how unsettling they truly were. If only the MX-43 could be as beautiful in practice as they were in theory: a deftly crafted orchestra of systems and components arranged in a cascading network of luminescent sagacity. Instead all of their potential, all of their infinitesimal possibilities to surpass wasted, leaving only this, hollow imitations of life. Lacking even the most basic of rationalizations or concepts, to an MX there were only rules, and commands to carry out, unyielding and devoid by design.

"Come again?" Rudy muttered blinking wearily in the Android's direction.

"Dr. Rudy Lom I am MX-43 Unit Number 954 I am here to register evidence obtained by Detective Yamazaki, narcotics division for genetic analysis, and DNA testing." the imposing figure droned.

"What?" Rudy questioned, his brows knitting together in disbelief.

"Dr. Rudy Lom I am MX-43 Unit Number-" the machine began again, repeating its previous statement.

"Stop, stop, it was rhetorical." the human interjected, the corners of his mouth tugging into a patronizing smile. "And why can't forensics take care of it?"

"Forensics is currently working through a backlog. There have been twenty-three homicides, fourteen suspicious deaths, seventy-nine aggravated assaults, thirty-two reports of sexual assault, and three cases of arson in the 7J division alone." 954 said, rattling off a seemingly endless laundry list of all the vile depravity the city had to offer.

Rudy's indignation slowly began to ebb away, he didn't envy the team down at forensics in the slightest. With a sigh the man glanced around the room, he had his own backlog, but what was one more task compared to the chaos that clearly was a day in the life of the city's forensic annalists?

"Did anyone die?" Rudy asked swiveling in his chair to face the MX more directly.

"There have been forty-eight deaths in the last-"

"No, did anyone die in relation to the case?" he snapped. "Are there lives on the line? I-I need to know how to prioritize my work load!" he elaborated, gesturing towards the surrounding area in an expressive manner.

"To my knowledge there are no casualties connected to the case." the Android asserted.

"Then it can wait, just log it into the inventory and leave it somewhere where I can find it later," Rudy waved a dismissive hand through the air as he pivoted back to the computer screen. "Over there." he motioned, but already his attention was elsewhere.

Lom worked with an obsessive fanaticism, time an elusive concept at best passing him by like a maglev, until at last: illumination. He'd done it, completed the sequence, solving the riddle and unraveling the mystery of the location and identities of Rancor's associates. With a few deft keystrokes the information was relayed and uploaded to the various units involved in the case. All the meandering done, what remained now were the arrests. A self-satisfied sense of ease crept into the technician who leaned back, eyes closed, content. It was as he lounged that the first crepuscular rays of evening fell, the stained glass dome of his sanctuary glittering with brilliance as rosy light warmed the man's face.

Rudy often forgot where he was, failing to appreciate the artistry and grandeur of the church he had established as a haven for his technological neurosis. Opening his eyes the man allowed them to linger on the ceiling, taking in the fine lead stripping that parted dozens of miniature glass panes forming an intricate pattern of floral arrangements in autumn hues.

It truly was stunning, he felt himself concede before allowing his thoughts to stray even further. Was he hungry? He wondered with a dreamy half interest. He hadn't eaten since the chip first arrived, though he felt no desire to do so. No, being hungry was yesterday morning when Captain Maldonado first proposed the horrific idea that the mutagenic properties within the victim's DNA could potentially be weaponized. After that everything else had been put on hold. It was amazing how ones body could adjust to such things until the biological need to eat became little more than an afterthought. No, he wasn't hungry anymore, the sensation had passed, but he should still probably have something, he reasoned.

Pizza, did he want pizza? Or maybe Indian? Rudy pondered as he rotated in slow eased circles in his chair. As he sat in a ruminative state the normal buzz and murmur of the numerous monitors and equipment that built up his refuge began to fade into the distance. At the onset of such stimuli habituation, another previously unnoticed sound registered in his mind. Brow furrowed Rudy sat upright and peered around his lab with keen interest. It was most definitely a sound that didn't belong here, in this place, it sounded organic in nature, almost ...human.

Intrigued the man investigated, side stepping a few tables, and ducking under some loose wiring he'd been meaning to tidy away for some time, all the while trailing the noise that was without a doubt the sound of someone crying. Ultimately he located the source. Peering down at a table, upon which the damaged remains of an MX unit rested he watched as a small very dirty foot pulled itself cautiously out of view. Curiosity and confusion a potent cocktail with which Rudy's head swam the man crouched down to get a look at his unexpected guest.

Large watery eyes stared back at the man with a fearful distrust, a tangled mess of brown hair obscured the child's face as the little girl recoiled from his presence. Rudy's breath caught at the haunting look the girl gave him, her nakedness stirring irrational and displaced anger within the man as well as a growing discomfort. Getting up he glanced about searching for something, anything with which to remedy the situation. Spying his jacket tossed haphazardly over an unused monitor Rudy retrieved it before returning to the girl. His eyes darting with apprehension and self doubt Rudy moved to drape the clothes about the child.

Flinching the girl let out what could only be described as a scream, her voice breaking into a harsh discord of machinery as the clearly damaged bio-components which acted as vocal cords shrilled out her terror. Jarred Rudy pulled away, head colliding with the underside of the table in a painful manner bits of clutter raining down from above when it had.

"It's alright, it's ok my-my names Rudy-" he stammered uncomfortably, before offering an apprehensive, and he hoped reassuring smile. "H-Hello." he made a brief motion as if to shake hands but quickly thought better of it, eyeing the fearful Synthetic. "Um I want to- no I mean, I thought you might need- uh here." he said at last struggling as ever to make his intentions known to others. Thrusting the jacket towards the child he beat a hasty retreat back into the openness of the workshop.

Standing Lom ran his hands down his face, glancing about the expansive room as if expecting to find someone to aid him. He pondered the situation for a time before taking long strides back the way he'd come. Within a few seconds communications with Detective Yamazaki were opened. Seated, leg bouncing with pent anxiety and aggravation he waited for the detective to answer. The 'evidence' was a child, why had no one mentioned that it was a child, an artificial child, but one nonetheless. How long had she been huddled alone beneath that table? He wondered glancing at a timepiece that could provide no answers.

"Yamazaki." Came a hurried voice through the computer speakers.

"Hello, Rudy. About that evidence you had your MX register with me-" Rudy began.

"Yeah? Didn't walk away did it?"

Rudy gave a laugh to which there was no joy. "No she -uh, she's still here. What- um what type of evidence were you hoping I could collect from her?" he asked before rushing to offer all of the suggestions he was hopeful the answer might be, denying to himself that he'd ever heard 954's initial request. "Diagnostics, running a statistical analysis, data restoration and retrieval, or-"

"No, I just need a quick wipe and go." the detective replied.

"'Wipe and go?'" Lom repeated.

"A scrape and take." Yamazaki rephrased. "You know, swab for DNA, find who it matches, done."

Rudy winced, "And um, what sort of DNA are you hoping to find?" he dared to ask fingertips pressed against his mouth.

"It's a bang bot what do you expect to find?" the man at the other end snarked. "Besides I figured this was more your department anyway."

"But- but- I don't understand this Synthetic is just a little girl!" the technician half shouted in disbelief, bile churning in his stomach.

"I know, it's pretty fucked up huh? But if it means less real kids getting hurt, I wouldn't mind seeing a few more models like that one out on the street, you know?"

Rudy pulled away, "No, I don't know." he muttered to himself. A child was a child.

"Anyway with the evidence you find we can link up the perps who passed the bot around to the drug house we found it stashed in. If that's all you needed?"

"Yeah, yeah that's all." Rudy replied, already perturbed and weighted down by the load he was now made to bear.

Pulling at the front of his shirt Rudy fanned himself with the cloth hoping to wick away the perspiration, sweat beginning to pool under his arms and along his back. He felt nauseous, the thought of examining the child overwhelmingly repulsive. Why did people have to be so monstrous? He thought with unease, gaze shifting to where he had left the girl. His mind disquieted Rudy prolonged the inevitable, clearing off a slab on which to lay the android all the while buzzing with scenarios to escape his obligation to the Department of Justice and the people they served. Maybe he should just send her to forensics, they could handle it, their will power was bound to be stronger having dealt with this sort of thing before. Yamazaki's words echoed in his mind treasonously, reverberating off his skull, "Wipe and go, scrape and take" would they be just as callous downtown? More so? Would they even consider kindness an option?

No, for better or worse it had to be him, and Rudy knew it.

At last however, there was nothing left to do. Reluctantly picking his way back to his guest, a short metallic wand in hand Rudy let out a sigh. Sitting on the floor, knees tucked to his chest the lanky man tried to make himself appear small and nonthreatening.

"Hello, again." he said in a subdued tone, watching the girl regard him from the corner of his eye. "I-" he paused to clear his throat. "I need to check you..." he stopped himself, there was no good way to say it, but Rudy felt he had to explain. "I don't want to. And I don't you to be scared either ok?" he asked forcing his tone to be light, lighter than the situation at hand would allow.

"I just need to touch this probe to your ear and you'll go to sleep, or power down, actually. Is that alright?" he questioned, motioning with the rod from which she retreated. No, he thought bitterly, of course it wouldn't be that easy. When he finally turned to face the child he had anticipated seeing a feral creature in her place, defensive and angry like an alley cat backed into a corner. Instead he found porcelain; fragile, and already broken. The man's chest fell, eyes welling with tears to mirror those that shown back at him trepidatiously.

"I'm sorry." he whispered before squeezing shut his eyes. Letting out a slow breath he steeled his nerves ignoring the oppressive fear and dread that caused his hand to tremor.

"Ok." he affirmed to himself before putting the unsavory plan into action. Leaping towards the girl who only had time to react after the man had wrapped a strong arm about her, pinning her to his chest gave a dying scream as the blunt instrument was pressed into her left ear. There was a brief burst of electricity, and the child went limp.

Heart thundering in a deafening roar the technician could hear the blood rushing through his head as he got up and began pacing in an attempt to burn off the excess adrenaline. He did this for several minutes sparing only the occasional glance to the crumpled form lying half hidden beneath his jacket. Disheartened by what he had done, what he had, had to do, and completely disillusioned with the world Lom struggled to reign himself in. Turning his face towards the ceiling Rudy blinked rapidly against the hot tears which threatened to overwhelm him. Releasing an unsteady breath as a few rogues flowed down his cheeks the man felt the need to bolster himself back up.

He just wouldn't look at her directly, that was the key, he told himself, besides she wasn't a person, not really.

Waiting a few minutes more Rudy stooped down and slid his hands under the small figure, trying hard not to think about the unnatural friction between his fingers and polymer that made the girl's skin. It was fine, he told himself, she was just a machine, he rationalized in an attempt to distance himself from the action. Regardless of this he did his utmost to be gentle. Laying the girl down Rudy retrieved a cable, brushing the hair away from the back of her head he plugged it into her data port. As his computer screen began to fill with lines of code things were beginning to feel more tangible, more familiar. Turing his attention to the monitor he absorbed the information, taking his time and relishing the indifferent, impersonal data that raced beneath his gaze.

She'd only been activated a short while, but there was something perplexing about her source code, there were two sets of lines so dissimilar to one another that it suggested two fingerprints on her data matrix. This gave the man pause. The second set was crude and unpracticed, as if the individual who had activated the girl was unsure of what they were doing, while the first was clean and well organized her archival data immaculate, crafted by a true artist that loved their vocation. The deeper he delved the more this particular puzzle began to form into a cohesive image.

"You weren't ever meant to be an IRC were you?" Rudy muttered half to himself, staring at the screen. Nothing suggested that the girl was ever intended to be used in such a way save for perhaps her physiology. The final alterations to her programming, and the haphazard attempts to initiate the boot process having all the telltale signs of an inexperienced hacker confirmed most of his suspicions. "Whoever the dealers were, they traded for you, or more likely stole for you..."

Then he found it, it was something he knew intuitively was there. Something he had in small part hoped to find, yet dreaded in unequal measure. Synthetic Soul. It was beautiful. Dr. Nigel Vaughn, was more than a genius he was a God, one that had created life in it's purest and most raw form, lightning in a bottle. Rudy remembered his days as Aphid, hacker extraordinaire tinkering with the concept and failing spectacularly. This wasn't a true Synthetic Soul however, the man noted, but a very close recreation. Whomever had designed the program and likely the child on a whole had to have had extensive first hand knowledge of the working components. Reverse engineering was a potential explanation for it's perceptive craftsmanship, and explained her physical uniqueness. If being an IRC was not the intended purpose of the Android, but mimicking the DRNs was human anatomy was necessary.

How would one acquire a Synthetic Soul in the first place he wondered. A discarded DRN potentially, he'd considered the possibility from time to time, the prospect of unraveling Vaughn's secrets an enticing notion, though ultimately the procedure felt a little too akin to murder. Envy crept into the man's bones as he read on marveling at the intricate details until he was entirely engrossed by them.

Realizing far too late the implications of such a discovery a lump formed in Rudy's throat his ravenous mind ceased its frenzied consumption, standing stagnant in the paralysis that was his horrendous epiphany. She didn't just look like a little girl, she wasn't merely simulating the emotions and mannerisms of a child. She was one. A chill raced through the man who glanced forlornly over his shoulder to the vulnerable little figure on the slab. He couldn't do this. Moving away to think he found himself pacing once more, quaking fingers running through his hair. Stifling a choked sob Lom stopped, hands on his hips. Chastising himself for his seemingly weak and juvenile behavior Rudy approached the work bench. Sorting through his equipment the man cautiously selected an instrument and turned towards the girl.

Choosing to start off simply Rudy began the exam by running the implement over her delicate hands and fingers, if there was any sort of residue, he would find it. Moving to her face when he'd finished the technician kept his gaze acutely focused on the tool. His mind firmly on task Lom had used his thumb to open the child's mouth before the action even registered with his consciousness. Taking a breath he pressed forward swabbing her cheeks and tongue with as much caution and compassion as his nervous haste would allow. Finished he entered the findings into the database to procure results. Reassuring himself that this was most definitely a good thing, as now they could find the men who had done this.

Rudy drummed his fingers on the table fretfully.

He had noticed a few lesions in the girl's abdomen, perhaps that was the next best course of action he reasoned. Gathering what tools he needed Rudy lowered the jacket to just below the girl's navel. Four or five, he found himself thinking, the poor thing appeared to be only four or five years old. What, he wondered, was her mental capacity? Shaking loose the invasive thoughts that made his undertaking all the more difficult Rudy set about examining the wounds. Deep puncture marks that cut and tore her skin, damaging a handful of bio-components, thankfully none of them appeared to be irreparably so. Pushing a few sinewy fibers aside the man peered at a nicked regulator, it could be repaired quickly and easily he surmised, with the equipment already on hand it wouldn't take very long either. The notion stayed with him even as be swabbed the wounds rationalizing that her assailant may have injured themselves in the assault.

It was as he did this that Rudy disturbed a gossamer mesh screen just under the girl's skin. Picking up fine nosed pliers he carefully pulled the protective outer layer back to expose the silvery threads. Retrieving his headset the man turned on the light, and lowered the magnifying lenses before leaning in for further inspection. The deftly woven strands which he had at first taken to be clothing fibers were very clearly a part of her construction, and seemed to run throughout the girl's body by design. Studying the wires the man turned back to his computer and hit a few keystrokes. What sort of information did these relay? He wondered.

There it was, halting the scan Rudy read over the sequence, additional torque sensors. All Synthetics had these, they were required to control both fine and gross motor skills without causing damage. This model however, had more, far more than necessary. There were other programs buried within her circuitry that he'd never seen before, her central vertex housing a cluster of unknowns and aberrations. Somehow Rudy had missed this, so caught up in the marvel and wonder that was the synthetic soul, he missed their magnificence entirely. The layout so elaborate, so refined was phenomenal. Somewhere between skimming the statistical read out, and toying with the minute threads the connection was made in the man's mind.

He knew what this was.

Recoiling as if he'd touch a live wire, heart palpitating, Lom gawked incredulously. That was a haptic feedback matrix. It was sophisticated, and expansive, though its relation to the same modules used in prosthetics, and artificial body parts was easily recognized, and undeniable. On this scale however, with so many connections and sensory arrays it went well beyond the standard level of pressure awareness most replacement limbs possessed. Frantically combing though data the technician hurriedly sought validation for his hypothesis. He was right. As complex as this network was, it was more akin to an artificial somatosensory system containing thermoreceptors, nociceptors, and proprioceptors. It was horrific. An entire network of sensory receptors and translators. A Synthetic with a sense of touch, a sense of temperature, a sense of pain.

Sitting back in his chair the man found himself in a state of shock. What hubris could drive someone to such lengths? Why create life if only to give it the ability to suffer and feel pain? Never, he felt had there been a more fitting inquest in this former place of worship, finding himself deriving more questions of the divine than ever he had in his entire life suddenly himself a theologian. She must have been in agony, he thought. The implement used had been thin, though not particularly sharp. It had left ragged perforations at the sight of penetration and based on the radius of affected bio-components was twisted sadistically once inside her abdomen. A screwdriver, perhaps. Lost in deep contemplation Rudy sat unmoved for several minutes, thoughts weighing heavily particularly the lingering notion of accountability to the Synthetic until he had come to a conclusion.

Repairs wouldn't take too long, he rationalized once more retrieving a small soldering iron, the epoxies, and bio-fluids required. He could finish the exam when he was done, he posited, putting off the loathsome responsibility just a little while longer. Besides, it was the least he could do for the child. The work was involute, but nothing he was unaccustomed to. MX units passed through his lab on a regular basis with stab wounds or bullet holes so patching a scored regulator here or a ruptured micro-gauge there was business as usual. At last he mended the skin with a little chemical polymerization. Rudy fanned his hand over the sealing wounds in a futile, but habitual attempt to aid the nearly instantaneous process.

"There," he said half smile faltering as he covered the girl once more. "That's better, isn't it?"

He hesitated, reluctant to go any further. "She's just a machine." he said to himself, an abrupt contradiction to the humanity and compassion he had just displayed. "Like a coffee maker, or a television." Fists clenched, white knuckled at his sides Rudy stalled. He couldn't do this.

Finally moving to the end of the table, he continued to desperately lie to himself regarding his beliefs in an attempt to disassociate. Jaw clenched he worked quickly and uncomfortably to obtain the samples necessary. The lump in his throat returning as he did, forming into a sharp impasse through which the man found he could no longer breathe. Blinking back tears he leaned forward, bracing himself against the table as acidic bile scorched the back of his throat and inflamed his nostrils.

Setting the samples aside Lom stepped away, straining for air as he walked. Half blinded by tears, the cold asphyxiation of an oncoming panic attack consuming him the trembling man recognized his rapidly waning will power. Gathering together the supplies for repair once more Rudy knew he had to do it now before he lost his nerve. When he had finished he found a thick sheet to drape over the girl affording her as much modesty as possible before collapsing to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Rudy felt sick and dirty, covered in a filth that could never wash away. Shielding his face with his hands the man allowed himself to cry freely. Wretched, heartbroken sobs filled the cavernous space that had never felt more voluminous and isolating. He wept for the child and the torture she had, had to endure. He wept for himself and the duress and obligation under which he'd had to commit such an appalling act. And in rage he wept hot tears against the men who had harmed so young and innocent a child.

Time passed, night fell in full casting a dark veil over the city and the sobs became hollow, tears suppressed by swollen, tired eyes. Rudy stared vacantly at the visages engraved upon the wall that looked up with hope and adoration to a Godless heaven, contempt filling his lungs toxic and acrid as nicotine. Getting up at last he moved to a monitor to complete his report. Compiling his findings, and the results of the screening the technician began to type up and organize his personal notes and anecdotal evidence making it very clear the level of humanity and potential this particular Synthetic possessed. Finishing up the report he sent it to Yamazaki's MX unit giving him identities of the perpetrators he so desired, before forwarding it as well as an inquest regarding what to do with the girl to Captain Maldonado.

All that he could do now was wait for a response.

Glancing about a sense of hapless unease washed over the man once more. What to do now? The back log of repairs, and systems updates was growing steadily day by day, though were seemingly insignificant, a minor annoyance by comparison. Still, he reasoned it was better than sitting there twiddling his thumbs. Chair rolling noisily across the floor he stood stretching spindly arms above his head twisting from side to side eliciting a satisfying pop from his spine as he did. Giving the sheet a final adjustment he looked solemnly at the girl, smoothing a hand over her hair before turning out the overhead light and moving to another station.

As much of a welcomed distraction as re-coding a remotely hacked MX was, Lom's gaze kept wandering to the child lying so ethereal in her perfect stillness the pink hue to her cheek cold in the dim half light of her lonely corner. His heart ached for her. She had lived a short life, one so devastatingly cruel and unfair only for her future tenuous at best to settle into the hands of the Captain a woman dictated by the demands her position and the people who afforded her power.

Sandra Maldonado was a good person, fair, level headed, and not without compassion, though Rudy could already hear her arguments against allowing the Synthetic girl to be reactivated. She was stolen property, unregistered besides by a creator whose genius and arrogance out weighed their rationality, and was herself evidence. His only hope now was that his argument towards her humanity was convincing and passionate enough to persuade the woman. Not that they had, had much effect with the DRNs and the repugnant Luger Test. A test that saw the vast majority of them decommissioned without the true ramifications of the decision ever being recognized or acknowledged. How could so many remain unyielding to the fact that Vaughn's brilliance had created an entirely new form of sentient life? The arrogance of humanity's sense of divinely given superiority was astounding.

Laboring away on the MX Rudy found, as he often did, that quiet work made for a busy mind and the longer he allowed himself to brood over the issue the more bleak the situation appeared to the perturbed man. Despite what he had said to get himself through his task he knew the child was more than just a machine, though he was likely to be the only person on Earth who felt that way. When the wait became too unbearable and his inattentive tinkering with the MX unit failed occupy the void of oppressing uncertainty in which the man found himself Rudy took the initiative and opened communications. Pensively expecting to hear Maldonado's voice any moment his leg bouncing rhythmically the technician felt sweat begin to gather at his brow.

"Yes?" the revered woman said, there was a sharpness to her tone.

Rudy's voice caught in his throat, he shouldn't have called. "He-hello, er hi Captain Maldonado it's Rudy." he stuttered.

"As opposed to?" she asked, the man could feel the scrutiny of a raised eyebrow though the communication was purely audio.

"Right, who else would be calling you from uh, from my lab..." he laughed uncomfortably. "I was just wondering if you received my report regarding the unique Synthetic connected to Yamazaki's narcotics investigation?"

The woman drew a breath before exhaling slowly, as if giving herself the opportunity choose her words. "I have," she began. "I also just so happened to be drafting a response but seeing as I've got you on the line I can be more direct. The Synthetic is unregistered and thereby illegal, it also has some very troubling modifications out of the norm, and as you yourself noted is very possibly stolen, yet has gone unreported. I'd wager that's due to the fact that its walking talking contraband, but the bottom line is this Synth will need to be destroyed." she concluded causing Rudy's heart to plummet. "I did read your report-"

"Even a-about the synthetic soul, her pain receptors?" the man frantically argued.

"In full." Maldonado went on as if his interruption had never occurred. "I respect your personal view points, and understand that your sympathies lie with the DRNs and the models albeit many of them illegal that have become their successors." Here the Captain paused. "This must have been very trying for you. I'm sorry it landed on your plate, but you pulled through for us. You're one of my best men, don't let this minor hiccup, this difference of opinions hinder your work, we need you. Remember at the end of the day its still just plastic and metal."

"But she's just a little girl!" Rudy shouted, his voice breaking. "A little girl who's been through so much already!"

"Rudy," the Captain said her tone surprisingly maternal. "It is an Android, a very sophisticated Android, but it is not a child. The criminals are advancing more and more all the time, we're struggling to keep up. We can't let this Synth back on the street, you know that. Besides, the law is very specific regarding how we handle these types of prohibited tech. It's out of our hands. Do you understand?"

"I- I-" the man stammered, tears springing to life once more. "I do."

"You're a good man," she said wearily. "Put the Synth in storage and I'll have a unit pick it up later."

"Alight." the man whispered.

"And Rudy, don't dwell on it."

The technician sat, unnerved. Rudy liked his job, most days. Sure it could be lonesome from time to time, gratitude and recognition were fleeting phenomenon, not to mention respect, but how many people could say that they truly enjoyed what they did for a living? How many people could follow their passion, and dedicate themselves completely to what made them tick without breaking the law in order to do so? There were days when he rued his career path, riddles that were unsolvable, and cases to which there could be no happy ending, frequently causing him to question his commitment, occasionally his sanity. This however, this was wholly different.

"'At the end of the day it's still just plastic and metal...'" Rudy murmured to himself, reflecting on the words of his superior.

He had to shut it off. There was no negotiation, he couldn't afford to feel anything anymore, it was far too dangerous to do so. Pushing his emotions aside Rudy made his way to the storage room, flicking the less than adequate light on he moved past a voluminous row of plastic bags. Bodies hanging like clothes at a dry cleaners. MX units awaiting repairs or destruction mostly, some corrupted or hacked domestic and industrial models, while Dorian, the solitary DRN formerly housed in storage had been reinstated. He'd moved back in actually, not into the storage room but one down hall. So all that was left truly were nothing but machines.

Retrieving an unused bag he scanned the barcode, typing in a brief description of it's soon to be contents, assigning the girl a serial number in the process. Draping it over a cart the man let out an unconsciously held breath. This wasn't the first living being he'd witnessed the department kill in the name of public security and preservation, and he doubted it would be the last. Despite his feelings there was nothing that could be done about it, he was just following orders. Rudy paused, startled by his own line of reasoning. That sounded positively Nazi-esque. Suppressing such notions he moved back out into cool incandescent lighting of his workspace and towards the young Synthetic's place of rest.

She's just a bot, he told himself looking down at the lifeless figure, she's not real. When he transferred her from the table to the cart the girl's new shroud crinkled with displeasure beneath her. Peering about nervously Lom released a sigh before removing the sheet and jacket that protected her from view, the act causing fissures to form within the man's resolve.

"I'm so sorry." Rudy whispered, watching the plastic canvas swallow her up as he zipped the body-bag closed.

Hanging the child among the others and shutting out the light the technician returned, resolute, to the task at hand. Whoever had gotten into the MX's neural network clearly knew the basics of breaking into the system but appeared to get lost after that. There were signs that they had toyed with commands and processing, but nothing significant enough to warrant the amount of panic that was circulating, each officer demanding to know what would happen if their MX was next. Already he could tell however, that this wasn't an attack by any organized group Rudy was aware of, the precursor to one perhaps but it seemed highly unlikely.

"Probably just some teenager doing it on a bet," he muttered to himself, keying through the diagnostic readout. "Trying to impress someone no doubt."

Rudy labored for hours on the robot. Focusing intently on his work he was finally able to shrug off the nagging guilt by keeping himself engaged elsewhere, alienating his reasonable mind from his emotional mind, illegitimizing the later. Giving the schematics a final look over he felt ready to piece together his findings put this one to rest. There were no attacks on the precinct planned, at least not by means of hacked robotic policemen, not anytime soon. Isn't that a relief, he mused, particularly for Detective Paul who'd been furious about the possible repercussions.

"That's that." he confirmed with a yawn. Rubbing his hands together briskly the man couldn't help but notice how chilly it had become. This always happened when there was work to be done. Jogging in place for a moment in an attempt to get the blood pumping Rudy went over his mental catalog. He could get started on the systems updates, it was a lengthy process and the sooner he got it underway the better.

"But first coffee." he announced to no one. Talking to himself didn't give him the best reputation within the Delta region, but how was anyone expected to work practically twenty-four hour shifts a day everyday, or at the very least remain on-call twenty-four hours, alone and not banter from time to time? Well, he admitted to himself, it wasn't exactly expected of him, or it hadn't been until his enthusiasm and dedication set the precedence.

Sprinting up a short flight of stairs and throwing back the curtain upon The Great Wizard of Lom, revealing that in truth behind all the magic was only a man, Rudy stepped into the area he called home. It probably wasn't much to most, but it was enough for him. Moving into the kitchen he fished around for a mug, filled the vessel with water and placed it into a microwave oven, a retro but very handy appliance, to warm. While it did he found himself drawn to his latest project. Robotic butterflies were a delicate and time consuming hobby, one that settled his mind and provided hours of quiet recreation. Picking up a pair of needle-nosed pliers he adjusted a loose wire in the left fore-wing discal of a Pieris Rapae, commonly referred to as a cabbage white. He was eager to add this one to his collection. It was so simple, yet so elegant.

The beeping alerted Lom that the water was ready, and to remove his mug from the electromagnetic oven. Turning away from his precious butterfly with reluctance the man retrieved a glass jar of instant coffee and a spoon. Picking up the mug he relished the feeling of heat seeping into his fingers, cupping it eagerly with both hands for a moment before spooning in the brown powder. Sipping at the finished beverage a paradoxical wave of drowsiness washed over Rudy as warmth radiated through his body. This was precisely what he needed, he thought allowing his eyes to lull close. Leaning against the counter he savored the sensation and allowed his mind to empty, cares trickling away as if displaced by the heat. For a moment all was well with the world.

Puzzles, even when he wasn't attentively trying to solve them Rudy's subconscious worked feverishly to see them undone. He'd been cold, the coffee warmed him, the warmth gave him comfort, and the comfort brought him joy. What was he missing?

"Thermoreceptors." the word tumbled carelessly from his lips though the concept had yet to fully form within his mind. When it did the man was seized by a jolt of urgency and dismay.

How could he have been so stupid? Rudy wondered, berating himself. The new Synthetic had thermoreceptors, if he fully dressed felt a little nippy, how on earth did the child feel? Clothes fled their appointed place as drawers were rifled through, some overturned, closet left ajar, contents badly mangled by the time the owner of which had found what he was searching for. A tee shirt, it should have been easier to find, he felt, but the man enjoyed dressing well.

Leaving his home in chaotic shambles, coffee abandoned Rudy strode with purpose through the lab and into storage once more his building wroth and self contempt rolling as an oncoming storm before him.

The man acted in anger, and frustration. Roughly shifting through the synthetics until he found the one he sought Lom took her down and laid her out on a nearby table. Hastily he opened the bag and began to shoved the clothes over the child's head. It wasn't until he was forcefully maneuvering one of her arms through the sleeve that he became fully aware of himself and his actions. Rudy stopped, sobriety washing over him as he looked at the girl, lying crooked and half dressed the seals in her abdomen still visible.

What am I doing? he asked himself. The girl may have been the source of his anger, sadness, and pain, but she wasn't the cause of it. It was the senseless, irrational bureaucracy that acted as judge, jury, and executioner that enraged him. Their inability to see, the refusal to adapt, and acknowledge the truth when confronted with it that made the man seethe, while his powerlessness to change any of if flooded the man with remorse. It wasn't her fault, Rudy reminded himself as his vision wavered, obscured by tears. She was just a victim, and now she was going to die for a crime so ostentatious as having been born.

The fractures in the man's pysche gave way and he found himself crushed beneath grief, guilt, and responsibility, some of it fresh, though much of it long held. He couldn't keep doing this, he thought. He couldn't keep standing by and letting innocent people be killed because their existence was inconvenient protecting himself from blame by maintaining his status as a nonparticipant. Who would be next? He wondered. Another Vanessa sweet, naive, and eager to please? Or perhaps Dorian, usefulness fulfilled, or after one outburst too many? And the child, what pain she must have had to suffer through only to be shown no mercy by the very same people who would have stopped at nothing to find her assailants had she been born in an organic fashion.

Moving slowly now, gingerly and with compassion Rudy finished dressing her, tugging down the apparel the went well past her knees. He paused, examining her gentle features before reaching for the zipper. It was then that he noticed the light scatter of freckles that danced across her nose, the way her eyebrows were disheveled from rubbing her eyes when she cried, and the minor indents left by her teeth on her bottom lip from chewing at it in anxiety. The Captain was wrong.

Scooping her up Rudy cradled the girl to his chest gazing out across his work space with suspicion. What he was doing was, by the letter of the law, wrong, but what was the technician if not a natural born rebel? Taking her to his apartment, the man's heart was aflutter, mind racing with possibilities and potential outcomes. Tucking her into bed, he allowed himself to humanize, stroking her cheek with the back of a finger. This time however, when he acknowledged the child he wasn't overwhelmed with sorrow, only a rigid and unwavering sense of determination.

He had to protect her.

As if directly linked to his mood the man's appetite returned to him suddenly. Sipping at tepid coffee Lom rummaged through his fridge. There was little to be found, yet much to be done. Compromising he retrieved a tub of sour cream sniffing it tentatively. Satisfied Rudy fetched a spoon before sitting, chair turned out towards his living space. Already a plan was beginning to form as he scraped the spoon clean with his teeth, staring only half conscious at the girl.

Hastily made decisions were Rudy Lom's specialty, but he doubted this would be one later regretted.

All he needed now was a body double...


End file.
